


A Witch's Curse

by c0cunt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Magic, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Witch Curses, monster Marco Bott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The town of Trost, surrounded by forests, is a moderately wealthy town, and home to one Jean Kirschstein.  When a monster appears in the forest, the town's wealth suffers, but Jean gains more than just a friend out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HedonistInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/gifts).



> fucking...i'm so tired of this fic. i've been writing this for like...two months? who the fuck even knows at this point. so tired of this.  
> here, have at it, and happy birthday Kai!

  Jean was never one to listen to the legends about what lurked in the forests surrounding Trost.  Logically, they never seemed to make sense to him.  The monster in the forest only appeared soon after Jean’s sixteenth birthday, and it was his twin sister Hitch who saw it that first time.

  “It was horrible!”  She shrieked in the middle of the town’s market, drawing all eyes to her dramatically.  Jean rolled his eyes at her, more than used to her hysterical screeching by now, even as the usual group of gossipers and nosy busybodies started to crowd around and listen.  “It looked like it was human from behind, but!  Its skin was white as bone, whiter than anything I’d ever seen!  Its hair was darker than shadows at night, practically leaching color from everything around it.  Oh god, but when it turned around…”  Hitch shuddered as she trailed off, her face a mask of horror as she stumbled over her own feet in an attempt to garner more attention.  Which, of course, worked, several people diving forward to hold her up.

  “W-what happened?”  Mina asked, voice quivering with equal parts fear and excitement.  Jean faked a gagging gesture as Hitch took a deep breath, as if to steady herself (Jean knew this was probably more to increase dramatics).

  “I-its eyes...Black as its hair, but its mouth...Oh god, its mouth.  Red as fresh blood, as if it had just been sucking on an animal’s throat.  And then!  Then!  Its mouth twisted as it looked at me, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more terrifying in my life!  It came at me!  I just w-wanted to go see Marlowe, but that  _ thing _ was heading right for me!”  Hitch wailed, promptly dropping into Mina’s arms to wipe her crocodile tears away.  Jean just snorted as he continued through the market, Maman’s list in hand as he headed towards the butcher’s store to haggle over the price of sausages.  Growing up with Hitch meant taking anything she said happened when he wasn’t present with a boulder of salt, in all honesty, and Jean had things to get done.  No time to listen to Hitch’s dramatics and excuses for why she had come home past dark.  She’d probably lost track of time while with Marlowe once again, and had decided that coming up with a monster was much better than telling their Maman and Papa that she was canoodling with him.  Either way, Hitch had gotten punished and was expected home by noon for the next two weeks, much to her dismay.  

 

* * *

 

 

Life continued on almost normally, for the most part, in the following two years.

  Jean only listened mildly as other people began to whisper about seeing the same monster Hitch had claimed to see.  Hitch had probably bullied them into strengthening her story, or paid them off.  Even Thomas, who Jean had always seen as a level headed guy, seemed to be convinced that Hitch’s monster was something real.  Much more quickly than Jean had thought possible, no one wanted to pass through the forest, and the town’s trading and wealth decreased dramatically.  Was the whole town going insane with hysterics?  Jean couldn’t help expressing his opinion when Franz stepped forward at the town pub and recounted his own tale, only to be met with annoyed anger.

  “If you don’t think it’s real, Kirschstein, why don’t  _ you _ go into those woods and prove it?”  Thomas barked at him, pointing a slightly shaking hand at Jean accusingly as the other wrapped even more tightly around his mug.  Jean blinked for a second, startled, before laughing loudly as he rose from his seat, which was the exact opposite of what those present thought would happen.  Most everyone in the town believed all the Kirschsteins to be all talk and no action.

  “Fine, Thomas!  I’ll go prove it isn’t real right now!  And then you all can see just how silly it is that you let Hitch’s hysterics get the best of you all for two damn years!”  Jean said loudly as he made his way to the door.  All the other bright chatter in the pub died as they realized Jean was going into the forest, turning horrified and morbidly curious as they spread the news and followed him.  

  “R-right now?  Wait, you can’t, it’s dark out!”  Thomas squawked, stumbling over his feet as he tried to follow closely behind Jean.  Franz looked absolutely terrified as he quietly told Jean there was no reason to be so rash late at night, which Jean waved off easily.

  “If it’s as white as you say it is, wouldn’t it glow against the darkness of the trees?”  Jean called reasonably as he lengthened his strides, heading for the edge of town, only glancing up once at the cloudy sky before refocusing on his destination.  There was a bit of a crowd building up behind Thomas and Franz, who had stopped at the edge of town, as Jean confidently strode into the woods.  Many of them were hissing for Jean to come back and stop being silly, but no one stepped forward to try and dissuade him from doing so.  Feeling cheeky as he reached the treeline, Jean turned to face the townspeople who were staring at him with equal amounts awe and fear, and flashed them a cocky grin as he disappeared into the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

  Going into the woods when it was a dark, cloudy night was probably a bad idea.  Even Jean could realize that now, when the glow of lights from the town had disappeared, and he had kind of lost track of where the path was.  Okay, so it was definitely a bad idea, but Jean just  _ had _ to get proof that Hitch was intentionally making the town hysterical and afraid of their own shadows for no reason.  That was a good enough reason to be in the woods, right?

  He shivered violently as a cool wind blew, drawing his arms up to tuck his hands under his armpits.  So he wasn’t exactly dressed to be out at night either, he’d be fine!  His white shirt was threadbare from how often it had been worn and washed, and even with the vest he’d thrown over it earlier, it wasn’t nearly enough to keep him warm.  At least his boots were thick, and he was thankful that he’d decided to wear the new pair instead of his old ones that had been falling apart, as he slogged through a puddle he hadn’t noticed.  Without the stars visible through the trees, he couldn’t even tell which way he was going anymore, and Jean was feeling more than a little desperate to leave when he heard a far-off cry of a lone wolf.

  Maybe it would be safer to climb a tree and wait for morning there?  It definitely sounded safer than being on the ground at least.  But it had also been years since Jean had last climbed a tree, and in the dark it would be downright impossible to figure out where to put his hands and feet.  Still, better to struggle up a tree than to continue wandering around in the dark.  To an outside observer, it might’ve even looked funny, as Jean attempted to scramble up a nearby oak that had branches that were just a foot out of his reach, one of the few trees with slightly lower branches that looked thick enough to support him.  It took five tries before Jean gave up on attempting to grab the low hanging branches and stood, panting as he glared angrily up at the dumb branch just out of reach, when he heard a deep chuckle from behind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  Turning slowly, Jean took a deep breath, ready to spit his insults and disparaging commentary about whomever had snuck up on him.  But the words died halfway to his throat and turned into a pathetic whimper when he saw exactly what was behind him.  Just as Hitch had said:  Skin as white as bone, hair blacker than the shadows, with matching eyes, and a mouth red as fresh blood.  It was definitely shaped like a human, and only a little bit taller than Jean himself, its dark eyes glittering in wonder and delight as it watched him.  It was a good thing that Jean didn’t have much to drink earlier, or he probably would’ve pissed himself when it  _ spoke. _

  “You were trying to climb that tree?”  It asked in a soft, careful voice that was slightly strained from holding back laughter, one of its bone-white hands tangling into the mass of black curls on its head in what could’ve been a nervous gesture.  Jean blinked rapidly as his mind tried to wrap around the fact that Hitch  _ hadn’t _ been lying when she had said there was this monster in the woods, his mouth moving faster than his brain could catch up with.

  “Oh.  You’re real,” Jean said faintly, just loud enough to be heard, before he slapped a hand over his mouth.  He was probably just hallucinating, yes, all of the stories that Hitch and the others had told were just getting to him in his panic.  The thing blinked slowly before it nodded, its black eyes falling to the ground as it scuffed its feet in apparent nervousness.  For half a second, Jean almost thought it was adorable, before banishing the thought quickly.  Monsters couldn’t be adorable, right?

  “I...Yeah, but...You aren’t scared of me?”  It asked hopefully, taking the tiniest step forward.  Jean’s back flattened against the tree, warily watching the monster, who stepped back hastily to give Jean his space.  

  “I’m not,” Jean blustered loudly.  The monster flinched slightly at his loud words, but its mouth twisted up into a very delighted smile that...Actually wasn’t unappealing.  It was actually kind of nice.  Unless Jean was mistaken, the color of the monster’s lips was only so bright because of how white the skin of its face was...Unless it really was blood.  Which would be pretty interesting, to see how the blood was fresh and not dried with how long it’d probably been out in the open for.  And was it terrible that Jean kind of wanted to taste it to find out if it was blood or not?  They stared in silence at each other as Jean slowly edged away from the tree, the monster twisting its hands as it hopefully watched him.

  “What the fuck are you?”  Jean asked bluntly, when his back was no longer fused to the tree.  The monster let out a small huff, as it rubbed just underneath its nose, before answering.

  “Well, I was human...But my mom got on the bad side of a witch by claiming I was the fairest person around, so…”  The monster shrugged, and went back to fidgeting nervously as Jean watched it.  It had a whole bunch of nervous gestures, Jean realized, as it rubbed under its nose again.  Poor thing probably hasn’t had a chance to talk to anyone in a long time without the shit being scared out of someone.  Jean couldn’t even imagine what it’d be like to not have someone to talk to.  Even talking to Hitch was better than no one, and there definitely wasn’t anyone moving through the forest for the monster to talk to recently.

  Jean took a cautious step forward, his eyes flickering from the monster to the ground, carefully placing his foot down around the gnarled roots of the tree nearby, as he asked:  “So, you got a name?  Or do I have to call you ‘the monster in Trost Woods’ like everyone else does?”

  The monster’s eyes widened as it stared, open mouthed, at Jean, who had taken another mildly confident step forward.  “I…”  The monster’s mouth moved but no words came out.  Either it wasn’t thinking fast enough or too fast, as it snapped its jaw shut with an audible  _ clack _ and swallowed down whatever it was thinking.  “M-marco.  My name is...Marco?”  It sounded more like a question than an answer to Jean, but he nodded anyways, and vaguely wondered just how long it had been since the monster had been called by  its his name.

  “Well,  _ Marco _ -” Jean put extra emphasis on his name, feeling oddly delighted as his mouth turned up in another surprisingly delightful smile, “-my name’s Jean.  Still not scared of you.”  This time he said it more confidently, no longer pressed against the tree or blustering, and Marco let out a tiny laugh.

  “No...I mean, you don’t seem to be…”  Marco trailed off in wonder, allowing himself to take a tiny step forward.  “I like this a lot better,” He mumbled to himself, and Jean wondered why no one else had mentioned that Marco, the monster, could talk.  Before he could ask what Marco meant, he hurried on to explain.

  “I haven’t...Really talked to people lately?  They’d take one look at me and run...But you didn’t,” Marco sounded so hopeful and excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he physically couldn’t contain how happy he was.  It was like watching a puppy, and Jean couldn’t help smiling slightly even as Marco’s bouncing stopped and he looked at Jean with a confused expression.

  “Wait, it’s late.  Why’re you in the forest so late?  Doesn’t your home have a curfew?”  Marco asked, concerned.  Jean let out an annoyed huff as he crossed his arms again, the scowl on his face the only answer to Marco’s question.  “Shouldn’t you, y’know, be at home?  Aren’t your parents going to worry?”  Marco pressed, shuffling a bit closer to Jean.  Either he didn’t notice or didn’t care, glaring at the ground as if it had made him walk into the woods earlier.  Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, Jean suddenly shivering when a cold wind blew, ruffling his hair and clothes.

  “Are you...Lost?”  Marco eventually asked.  Jean let out several blustering noises, as if trying to convince himself more than Marco that he wasn’t lost.  Which only confirmed, in Marco’s mind, that Jean was lost.  He rocked back on his heels for a second, blood red mouth twitching into a frown (that Jean suddenly felt determined to  _ never _ let cross Marco’s face again).

  “I could...Help you to the edge of the woods?”  Marco phrased it like a question, nervously rubbing under his nose as Jean continued to silently scowl.  Eventually, Jean nodded once sharply, and picked his way closer to where Marco was standing, feeling quite shitty about having to rely on someone else to get him out of the woods near his goddamn home.  He hadn’t needed help navigating these woods since he was ten years old...But he also hadn’t been wandering the woods at night, especially not when there were more clouds than sky visible.  

  Marco, on the other hand, seemed absolutely delighted.  He reached a hand out for a second, as if offering to hold Jean’s hand as he led the way, before snatching it back with a sheepish look.  Jean didn’t have the heart to get mad at the other boy, instead just huffing in annoyance as he shuffled after Marco.  Jean kept an average distance between himself and the other boy, at least until he heard another wolf howl, which made him panic and practically fuse himself to Marco’s bare back with a terrified squeaking sound.  Marco to let out a yelp as he stumbled from the sudden new weight on his back, though he was much calmer about the noises of the forest around them.

  “Fucking hell, how many goddamn wolves are in this fucking forest?” Jean whimpered, unsticking himself from Marco’s (very warm) back, but not putting any distance between the two of them.  Marco hesitantly patted at Jean’s shoulder as he rolled his eyes, gently forcing Jean to stay still as he put a bit of distance between them so they wouldn’t be stumbling over each other’s feet.

  “Hm, well there hadn’t been many when I got here, but now there’s maybe...A dozen wolves?  They don’t like me much, so they tend to leave me alone at least,” Marco laughed nervously as he continued in the direction of the nearest town, only impeded a little bit by Jean nearly stepping on the back of his ankles with how close he was walking.  Jean’s eyes flitted around anxiously, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when a nearby bush rustled, grabbing at Marco’s arm as if that would protect him from the wind.  Marco continued walking confidently, slipping a very warm hand into Jean’s, hoping that Jean wouldn’t cling so tightly to rest of his arm.  While that didn’t happen (if anything, Jean’s free hand gripped Marco’s bicep even more tightly), Jean didn’t jump at every sound that was louder than a mouse.

  Eventually, the forest began to thin out, and if Jean squinted he could make out the familiar path leading into Trost.  There was a lot more artificial light than he had expected (honestly, he had thought that the townsfolk that had gathered to see him off would’ve gone to bed by now, it was really late), and Jean tugged Marco to a stop while they were still completely hidden.  Marco didn’t comment on how the town’s lights appeared to be much closer to the forest’s edge than it had been lately, even though Jean knew he had to’ve noticed.  He also seemed more than a little put out over having to untangle their hands so soon.

  “Trost looks like a nice place,” Marco said conversationally as he peered through the trees ahead.  Jean had to fight down the urge to pull Marco further back into the woods, wondering if his skin really would shine like raccoon eyes when in full light.  Instead, he shuffled his feet, unwilling to just leave as he realized he really would like to see Marco again.  After all, he did need to find out if there really was fresh blood on Marco’s mouth, which was twisting into a frown as Jean watched him.

  “I’ll come back and see you as soon as I can,” Jean promised, “Which, might not be for a bit, Maman might want to kill me for staying out so late, if word hasn’t already reached her.”  While Jean wasn’t intending to be funny, Marco did let out a small laugh.  It sounded a little sad, like he didn’t believe that Jean would return, which only made Jean even more determined to come see him again.

  “Good night, Jean,” Marco whispered as he turned and walked back the way they had come, bone-white skin standing out starkly against the trees until he appeared to melt away.  If Jean hadn’t been watching him leave, he wouldn’t have believed the other boy was there mere seconds ago.  With a dejected sigh, Jean turned and headed towards town, wondering just exactly he would tell Thomas and the like when they inevitably descended upon him.


	3. Chapter 3

  Two weeks passed before Jean was able to sneak out of the house, late at night.  Maman had, of course, thrown a fit when word had reached her the morning after Jean’s ‘adventure’ had happened.  While Jean did want to go see Marco as soon as possible, he also didn’t want to upset his mother enough that she would throw him out permanently, instead of just kicking him out to the backyard.  He had wormed his way out of telling anyone about if the monster was real or not by giving Thomas a look when asked, and snapping about how he wasn’t about to sit in the woods when there were  _ wolves _ potentially out for his hide.  It had worked perfectly, and for two weeks, he had been the perfect son.  That only seemed to convince the townsfolk that there really  _ was _ a monster in the forest for Jean to become so well-behaved overnight, which was sort of funny.  But that was besides the point.  The point was, he could  _ finally _ attempt to go and see Marco again.

  Jean stuck to skulking along the dimly lit alleyways, as he headed for the forest path.  He was going to attempt to recreate how he had come across Marco in the first place, even though he didn’t exactly know which way to go with the moon brightening his path this time.  There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and the stars almost appeared brighter as Jean followed the path deeper into the forest, wondering for a minute if he should attempt to call out for Marco.  Would the monster boy even respond if Jean called for him?  Or would that just attract the unwanted attention of wolves?  Shit...Where even did they meet?  Jean hadn’t been able to see that well last time, but now everything was lit up more brightly and...Wait.

  Jean froze as he stared into the trees on his left, where he had thought he’d seen a flash of something white move.  It had been a blur, but it was roughly person-sized.  At least, Jean hoped it was roughly person-sized, and that it was the monster that he was looking for, as he hesitantly walked off the worn path and carefully picked his way over to the trees.  Trost forest wasn’t actually known to have a lot of magical creatures, at least not in the past two decades, so the most threatening thing in the forest (as far as Jean knew) were the wolves.  And wolves definitely weren’t human shaped or pale white bipedal creatures.  So Jean was fairly certain that he wasn’t following a wolf, carefully attempting to follow the white blur as it moved deeper into the woods.

  Jean didn’t know how long he followed, tripping over tree roots a few times when he attempted to speed up and catch up to the blur.  He kept biting his tongue, not wanting to shout and scare Marco...But Jean was making an awful racket as he crashed through the trees after the white blur, so he wouldn’t be scaring him if he yelled, right?  

  “M-Marco?  Hey, slow down,” Jean called as he ducked under a low hanging branch, dragging an arm across his forehead to mop up sweat.  The white blur froze, and it was definitely human shaped, but...It was too short to be Marco.  The more Jean looked at it, the more he realized he probably shouldn’t have followed it, already taking a step back as it slowly turned its head.  It blinked blood red eyes at Jean slowly, its mouth a black slash against bone white skin, the corners downturned.  Jean’s heart lept into his throat as he turned and ran as fast as he could back the way he’d come, tripping over tree roots and cursing sporadically as he scrambled along.  It didn’t sound like anything was following him, and he couldn’t really get himself to calm down, especially when he couldn’t find the path again.  With how bright the moon was, it threw the shadows around Jean into sharp contrast, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from scouring the darkness for anything that might’ve been following him, mentally cursing himself for coming out in the middle of the night again.  It was probably best for him to try and find his way home, even if he was now just as lost as he had been the last time in the wood.  Maybe it’d be safer to attempt to climb a tree and wait for morning?  Jean was eyeing up a nearby oak tree with branches  _ just _ too high him to comfortably reach, when he heard a chuckle that he recognized, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up even as he smiled to himself.

  “Where the fuck even were you, I spent who knows how long wandering around,” Jean loudly whined as he turned to face Marco, who was leaning against a tree with an amused look on his face.

  “Apparently I only find you when you start thinking about climbing trees,” Marco said with a laugh as he pushed off of the tree he was leaning against and stepped closer to Jean, whose smile was ruining the attempted grumpy look on his face.

  “Maybe I should’ve tried to climb a tree as soon as I got in here, instead of chasing around...Whatever it is I was chasing…”  Jean started with a laugh, trailing off with a slight frown as he remembered the  _ other _ monster he had encountered.  Marco’s lips turned down slightly, and Jean couldn’t help himself from staring as white teeth dug into the bright red of the other boy’s lips.  The color didn’t change as Marco’s lower lip slipped out from between his teeth, so it...Wasn’t blood, right?  Fresh blood  _ dripped _ and would probably have run from that sort of treatment, right?  The color of Marco’s lips was at least more permanent than some of the lip stains that ladies around town (and Hitch) wore.

  “You were chasing someone?”  The movement of Marco’s mouth as he spoke was hypnotizing.  Jean nodded absentmindedly at Marco’s question, tearing his eyes away from Marco’s mouth only when he realized he was staring.

  “Uh, yeah.  It was short and had fucking red eyes and a black mouth, it was really freaky.”  Jean mumbled, forcing his eyes to not focus on Marco’s lips.  He ended up staring at Marco’s bare chest, and wondered why he wasn’t wearing a shirt.  It wasn’t exactly  _ cold _ but it was  _ chilly _ at night, and Marco was standing there with only a pair of slightly muddy pants on.  (Marco’s nipples were a slightly darker color than the rest of his bone white skin, an unnatural sickly gray that made Jean think of that sort of pallor that came with sickness.  He almost wondered if there were other areas of Marco’s body that didn’t exactly match the color of the rest of his body...Wait, shit, it was probably weird to be staring at some other guy’s nipples, even if they were a weird color, and it was  _ especially _ weird to be thinking about other body parts that weren’t the same color as the rest of their body.)  Before Jean’s filterless mouth could comment on any of his mortifying thoughts, Marco let out a laugh that grabbed his attention.

  “You must’ve been following Historia, then!  You probably surprised her, people aren’t all that common in the forest anymore.”  Marco sounded more than a bit amused, which made Jean glance up.  He was smiling, at least, and either wasn’t concerned about Jean blatantly checking him out, or he was willing to ignore being stared at for the chance to have a normal conversation.  Just realizing that Marco probably hadn’t spoken to many people in  _ such _ a long time, that he was willing to ignore hyper creepiness for the sake of talking to someone “normal”, made Jean feel terrible.  (Who knows how long Historia had actually been around in the woods.  Marco hadn’t mentioned her last time Jean was around, had acted like it had been ages since he’d spoken to someone at all.  Had she just appeared within the last few weeks?  That seemed pretty likely.)  Jean grunted some sort of agreeing noise as he shuffled his feet, not really sure what to do now that he was  _ there _ in front of Marco and able to actually have a conversation.

  “Uh...What do you even do out here anyways?”  Jean asked uncertainly, wanting to shove his entire foot in his mouth the second he heard what he’d asked.   _ Obviously _ Marco was living somewhere in the forest, which meant he’d built his own shelter (probably) and went hunting for his meals (again, probably).  He probably didn’t want to talk about the things he did to survive.  But Marco lit up, and started chattering on about how he was trying to get the wolves to trust him, and about how he was in need of a better knife since he didn’t have a honing rod.  Jean didn’t even have to pretend to listen:  He was genuinely interested in how Marco survived, basically alone in the forest, and Marco’s face lit up each time Jean let out an interested hum to remind him that he was listening.  

  “So that’s how I ended up naming the wolves after flowers.”  Marco finished his story proudly, grinning at the slight smile that was curving Jean’s lips upwards.  He would’ve launched into another story straight away if Jean hadn’t suddenly let out a terrific yawn, slapping a hand over his mouth with an apologetic look on his face.  Marco frowned and looked up at the sky, noting that the moon was much closer to setting than it had been when he thought he’d heard someone crunching through the forest.  “It’s late, Jean.  Maybe you should head home?”  He suggested, feeling guilty for having his...Friend?  Could Jean be considered a friend already?  At the very least, he had kept his word and returned when no one else had even attempt to  _ talk _ to Marco in the years since he had stumbled into this forest.

  Jean shook his head, the apologies that had been bubbling up in his throat (wow that was strange, since when did Jean Kirschstein  _ apologize _ to anyone) transformed into a whine.  “Nah, not yet, we gotta pick out a place to meet so that I don’t have to try and climb trees each time I come to see you,” Jean countered, watching Marco’s eyes practically sparkle with how delighted he was.

  “You...Want to see me again?”  Marco sounded somewhere between confused and delighted, unable to wrap his thoughts around  _ anyone _ wanting to join him in the forest more than once.  (Well, more than twice in the case of Jean.  Marco was still in shock that he had kept his promise to come back.)

  “Well, yeah,” Jean said easily, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “I mean, you’re my friend, right?  It’d just be plain rude to not come and see you, yeah?”  Jean’s eyes darted away, squinting as the moon disappeared behind a cloud for a minute, as he tried to pinpoint exactly where the main path was.  Marco snorted slightly as he gestured for Jean to follow him again.

  “How about we pick somewhere that’s close to the path then?  Unless, y’know, you want to work on your tree climbing skills.”  Marco wasn’t expecting Jean to lightly shove him for the teasing, making him lose his footing for a second, before sticking his tongue out at Jean and leading the way back to the path that Jean seemed incapable of finding.  Marco would have said something about how poor Jean’s sense of direction was, but then he felt Jean’s hand brush shyly against his own.  He glanced at Jean out of the corner of his eye (Jean was adamantly looking away, as he held his hand at an angle that made it easier for Marco to grab), wondering if his skin could actually show off the blush he felt forming.


	4. Chapter 4

  They fell into a routine.  Jean would get his chores and apprentice duties done as quickly as possible, before darting into the forest before sunset.  He would meet with Marco underneath a strangely twisted oak tree that the path curved around, and tell him all the latest news and gossip that was running around the town.  Sometimes, Jean came bearing gifts:  The first of many was a honing rod and a dog whistle that Jean had spent a lot of time earning from the metallurgist.  Marco was initially resistant to accepting gifts, it was only by the beginning of autumn that Marco began to gratefully accept them.  As the only person that Marco interacted with was Historia (who had started to see someone that boldly came into the forest from Jinae’s side), there usually wasn’t much for Jean to ask about.  Even though he enjoyed listening to how Marco felt about the news he brought or hear about the dream he had had the night previously, it wasn’t like there were constantly new things going on in the forest.  It was the day before Christmas, and snowing heavily, when Jean actually thought of something new to ask Marco.

  “Do you have, like, a cabin or something around here?”  Jean asked, voice muffled by several heavy scarves he had wrapped around his neck and lower face.  He was wearing two pairs of pants (one tightly fitted to his body, the other just the slightest bit looser), two shirts, and a heavy down coat over that, shivering as he shook freshly fallen snow out of his hair, having forgotten a hat before setting out.  Marco, comparatively, looked as though he was still enjoying summer, with only a light green shirt and his muddy pants on.  Jean had never attempted to see Marco when the weather was unpleasant, opting instead to come the next clear day.  But his family would be demanding his attention for a while, the holiday only spurring Maman into attempting to find Jean a suitable wife, and Jean knew he wouldn’t be able to sneak away for at least a week now.

  “Yeah, follow me, it’s way too cold for you to be outside,” Marco lightly scolded, letting Jean duck underneath his arm to leech his warmth.  

  “You don’t even have fucking shoes on,” Jean griped, glaring at the footprints in the snow that Marco was leading him next to.  They looked to be about the same size as Marco’s feet, and Marco had told Jean that they were the only two men who were in the forest nowadays, so it wasn’t too big a stretch of the imagination that the footprints led back to Marco’s home.  Or shack.  Or whatever he was dwelling in.  Jean isn’t exactly sure what to expect, but somehow he’s more than a bit surprised when Marco leads him to...Something.  It kind of reminded him of a single horse stall, with a thatched roof and fragile-looking walls that would probably be blown over if the wind picked up a bit.  Jean’s hands itched to try and construct something  _ better _ than that for Marco, he deserved better than a half-assed lean-to.  Marco smiled sheepishly at Jean’s disdainful looks, rubbing just under his nose.

  “Well, this is home.  Not exactly pretty, but it works well enough,” Marco chuckled before adding in a mockingly snobbish voice;  “Definitely not up to Mr. Carpenter’s standards, I guess.”

  Jean looked up at him sourly, before he ducked underneath the edge of Marco’s shelter and scooted as far away from the open side as he possibly could.  Marco had been mercilessly teasing him since his father had gotten him an apprenticeship with Woerman, which had greatly cut into the time they could potentially spend together since Woerman insisted on starting the day as early as possible.  And while Jean was confident in his abilities to possibly build something better than what Marco was currently living in, he wouldn’t have the time to be able to do so, especially not in the dead of night.  Maybe Jean could get Marco a blanket after the holidays, noting that there was only a small stack of spare clothing also shoved to the back of the structure.  

  “You’re looking crabbier than usual, what’s up?”  Marco asked, breaking into Jean’s thoughts as he settled down in front of his friend, blocking the open side of the structure as best as he could.  Jean’s ever-present frown deepened as he remembered the reason why he was annoyed with his family, making a mental note to look into getting a blanket sometime later.

  “Maman’s going to be trying to set me up with a girl over Christmas,” Jean grumbled, poking at the frozen ground.  “She wants me to go and get married and start my own family, y’know, but I don’t even  _ like _ women that way.  Yeah, they’re pretty, but I don’t want to do any of…” Jean trailed off and waved his hand as if to encompass everything involved in marriage and families, as he emphasized the word “ **that** ” like it was a curse.  Marco frowned slightly, understanding the distaste that Jean was feeling.  One of the first things Jean had told him was that he was more attracted to men than women, which his mother greatly disapproved of.  She wanted grandchildren from  _ both _ of her kids, and even though Hitch was more than willing to provide, Jean very much was not.

  “Is there anything you can do to get your mother to understand?”  Marco asked, watching as Jean continued to scrape his nails against the frozen earth, who barked out a bitter laugh, but otherwise remained silent.  Jean had implied before that arguing with his Maman was useless, but if he could just...Gently persuade...That could fix the problem, right?

  “S’fuckin’ cold out here,” Jean grumbled instead, and Marco immediately scooted closer.  Jean’s eyelids looked heavy as he gestured for Marco to sit shoulder to shoulder with him, but Marco didn’t comment on that either.  He almost wanted to comment on how Jean immediately snuggled into his side when he had scooted next to his friend.

  It was...Strange, to be seated next to his best friend, and have said best friend attempt to fuse to his side.  Marco hadn’t been expecting that at all, but it should’ve occurred to him, knowing that Jean had a tendency to immediately burrow into anything throwing off heat when he was cold.  And well, Marco was a regular furnace, better than setting up a little fire, even when it wasn’t snowing.  (It was a side effect of the spell, Marco remembered, having spent the years leading up to his cursing getting cold like a normal person.  Marco felt anything but normal, even with Jean in his side and watching the snowfall, silently watching with drooping eyelids as one of Jean’s freezing hands wiggled out from underneath his many layers of clothes to delicately attempt to hold Marco’s hand.)  Smiling slightly, Jean took the opportunity to lay his head against Marco’s shoulder while Marco stared at their entwined hands.  He’ll figure it out eventually, Jean thought drowsily as he let his eyes shut, drifting into a toasty warm nap.

 

* * *

  
  


  The next thing Jean knew, he was being gently jostled awake, and sweating from too much heat.  Which, if it was summer, wouldn’t have been too unusual, but it was the middle of winter, and...Jean’s eyes snapped open as he remembered where exactly he had been when he remembered where he was, startling Marco with how swiftly he squirmed out from underneath the older boy.  They’d apparently tipped halfway over while sleeping, until Jean was mostly squished under Marco’s weight, which explained how hot he had gotten overnight.  The wind was almost too cold for Jean to handle, and he wanted to crawl back underneath Marco again, but there was sunlight poking dimly through the treetops.  Which meant he really needed to go home.  Shit.  Jean yawned as he stumbled to his feet, almost falling face first into the snowbank that was just outside of the opening of Marco’s lean-to.  Smiling shyly at his best friend (who seemed determined to not meet Jean’s eyes, as if ashamed or nervous), Jean stamped around a bit until he could actually feel his feet again.

  “Merry Christmas Mar-” Jean was about to add something snarky, but he tripped over his damn feet again, and Marco dove to catch him.  That definitely woke Jean up, with only an inch between his nose and the frozen ground.  “Think I’m falling for you, eh?” He mumbled to himself, almost too quietly for his own ears, but the way Marco stiffened for half a second as he helped Jean to his feet made him nervous.  He was definitely  _ not _ supposed to say something like that to his best friend, especially not one who he couldn’t even introduce to his family.  Jean had only been awake for maybe two minutes and he was already fucking up Christmas.

  “Y-you should head home, before your parents wake up,” Marco mumbled as he also stood.  Jean nodded mutely in agreement, and followed silently as Marco started to lead the way across the clearing.  Marco stopped after a few steps with a sigh, as he twisted his hands together, before huffing at himself and thrusting a hand out to Jean, who stared at it blankly.  Only when Marco’s face crumpled slightly as he started to lower his hand did Jean get what he wanted, flailing only a little bit internally as he grabbed Marco’s hand.  The grin that spread over Marco’s face, so completely delighted and slightly awed, was worth more than anything in the world, as far as Jean was concerned.  He decided, as they silently walked back towards Trost, that he was definitely going to be getting Marco a blanket for Christmas, at the very least.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this last chapter's hecka long, so yee

  Jean wasn’t sure how to act around Marco, once he was released from familial holiday obligations.  He had, somehow, successfully gotten through the holidays without his Maman shoving more than three relatively nice and attractive girls at him, which was a miracle all in its own.  But, as he trudged through the slushy snow in the middle of the night once more to meet up with his best friend, Jean couldn’t help but feel anxious.  Especially when Marco was nowhere to be seen around their meeting tree.  In his place, though, was the other monster, its almost white hair gleaming just as brightly as its skin in the darkness.  Jean  _ knew _ that Marco had told him their name, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember, and they stared at each other in silence for a few minutes, before the smaller monster sighed and took it upon themselves to say something.

  “So, you’re Marco’s friend, Jean.”  Even though it should have been phrased like a question, the high pitched voice from the monster stated it.  Jean nodded unneedingly, and shifted from one foot to the other as he waited for the monster to continue, which only took another half a second.  “I’m Historia,” she added, rolling her red eyes at the little ‘oh’ that Jean let out as he remembered her name halfway through her saying it.  Silence reigned again, at least until Jean opened his mouth.

  “Is everything alright with Marco?  We are supposed to meet here after all...”  Jean muttered uncertainly.  He was mentally running through if Marco had ever mentioned getting sick since he was cursed, and wondering if any of the medicines Maman had forced down his throat when he’d get sick would help.  Historia’s black mouth quirked into a half smile as she nodded.

  “He’s fine, but he’s being a dumb kid right now.  He wanted me to say he was sick so that you’d go home, but I would think that’d make you more anxious to see him, if you’re anything like my Ymir,”  Historia laughed slightly, eyes gleaming brightly as she watched Jean try to pull extra meaning from her words.  

 Jean couldn’t help but frown, wondering why the hell Marco wouldn’t want to see him, and feeling a little bit guilty that he’d never thought to send someone in his place to tell Marco he couldn’t come.  Jean had somehow escaped getting genuinely sick, aside from a few sniffles, since he had met Marco.  Which was a very good streak of luck (maybe Marco was a lucky charm?  Jean felt like he could be), considering how there was always at least one person each day coming uncomfortably too close to him, with some sort of sickness in Woerman’s tiny workshop.  It’s like the majority of people in Trost couldn’t figure out how to cover their goddamn mouths when they coughed, and it grossed Jean out.  But, well...It wasn’t really like he  _ could _ tell anyone about Marco.   They would either think he was insane for asking them to go into the forest, or would tell Maman and he’d never be able to get out again.  

 “Who’s Ymir?”  Jean eventually asked, half a second after Historia had turned to walk back into the woods.  She looked a little surprised that Jean had even asked, but she did smile quite brightly.

 “Ymir’s my friend, like you are to Marco,” She answered neutrally, then sighed with a frown.  “I would like her to be my girlfriend, but since I’m like this-” she waved a hand to encompass everything that she was, “-it’s not like I can really ask her for that.”  Historia sighed again, and Jean felt almost bad for asking.  

  “Well, if she and I are anything alike,” Jean started, his brain frantically trying to shove the brain-to-mouth filter in place, “Then it would be more than likely she’d be willing to be your girlfriend.  If your relationship parallels mine and Marco’s…”  Jean trailed off as he realized exactly what he had said, slapping a hand over his mouth with a quiet whine of distress.  Historia, on the other hand, doubled over from laughing at his obvious mortification.

  “Oh yes, you two sound very much alike!  Also sounds to me like you have a bit of a thing for Marco,” Historia eventually gasped out once her laughter had died down a small bit.  Jean wasn’t sure how many shades of red he had turned, but he was very sure that his color was probably on the unhealthy side now.  He grumbled what could’ve been a “shut up” as Historia’s laughing trailed off, and merely got a toothy grin in return.

  “Oh, lighten up!  I’m not about to squeal to Marco,” Historia said with another roll of her eyes.  “You might wanna head back home, I’ll pass on that you were concerned and everything.”  Again, another question that was spoken more like a statement.  Jean wasn’t a fan of that, but it’s not like he could’ve argued much.

  “I...Yeah.  Tell him I hope he gets well soon, ‘cause I’m coming tomorrow no matter what,” Jean said sort of snappishly.  Historia snorted slightly as she turned and trotted off into the forest, and it took a full two minutes for Jean to realize what had made her laugh.  She was too far away to hear Jean yell at to get her mind out of the gutter, so instead he kicked a small bunch of rocks as  he turned home, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his belly and a frown on his face.  

 

* * *

  
  


  Jean’s nineteenth birthday was coming up, faster than a year had any right to pass so quickly, bringing a cloud of anxiety and worry.  Well, Jean wasn’t anxious or worried, but Marco was.  Even though Marco claimed that everything was fine, Jean could almost feel that there was something Marco wasn’t telling him.  The feeling only increased when Historia popped up more frequently to tell him Marco wasn’t feeling well.

  “He’s still sick?”  Jean asked disbelievingly as Historia leaned against their meetup tree, braiding a bit of her hair and looking completely bored as she hummed an affirmative sound.  Jean crossed his arms, unconvinced.  Marco had been avoiding him for almost a full week at this point, and Jean wasn’t sure if he’d be able to slip away after his birthday for a while.

  “Having tummy troubles, blah blah blah, doesn’t want you to worry, blah blah blah, his curse is going to be permanent by noon tomorrow, blah blah blah…”  Historia intoned, making a mock-speaking gesture with her hand with each ‘blah’ she said.  Jean blinked owlishly at that.

  “His curse isn’t permanent?”  He asked.  Historia looked up sharply from her hair at that, her eyebrows raised to her hairline in surprise.  

  “He didn’t tell you it wasn’t permanent?”  Was her disbelieving reply.  Jean shook his head, his stomach flipping, as Historia’s hands fell from her hair.  Jean asked before if there was any way to break the curse, but Marco had always smoothly changed the subject before he could weasel a straight answer out of the older man.  And usually by the time he remembered he’d been distracted, Jean was almost back home or curled up underneath his blankets in bed.  Why hadn’t Marco just come out and told him how to help?  Did he want to be mostly alone in a forest forever?  Did he like being in the form he was now?

  “Do you know how to break it?”  Jean eventually asked, mentally sifting through the other questions that he’d ask Marco after he found out how to break the curse.  Historia nodded, looking mildly bored as she unbraided her hair and flipped it over her shoulder as she answered.

  “All it takes is a kiss on the lips from someone that cares deeply about him.  Same as mine; Ymir wants our first kiss to be special, and we have more time than you both do, so…”  Historia trailed off as Jean walked briskly past her, in the direction that he vaguely remembered Marco’s lean-to to be in.  Historia sighed as she followed behind him, helpfully giving Jean directions when he inevitably got lost.

  It took a bit of stomping around, but eventually Jean and Historia made it to Marco’s clearing.  Jean barely paused to catch his breath before charging the rest of the way to the lean-to, eyes fixed upon the light-colored lump that stood out against the dark ground, as Historia mumbled a quiet “good luck” before she melted back into the trees.  Marco was curled up underneath the blanket Jean had gotten him for Christmas, his back to the opening of his shelter, and Jean could hear him snoring lightly.  If Jean wasn’t so pissed, he might have thought that Marco looked pretty damn adorable.  He did, though, pause for a second to note that Marco was pretty cute sleeping, before taking a very deep breath and preparing to shout loud enough to be heard in Trost.

  “Marco fucking Bodt, you get your dumb ass up right now!”  Jean bellowed, delighting for a second in how Marco shot out from underneath his blanket and crashed into the back end of his shelter with a terrified yelp, almost causing the whole thing to collapse.  Jean snickered for half a second, shifting his face back into an almighty frown before Marco could roll over and see what had woken him up.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was, though.

  “Jeaaaaaaan?  What’re you doing here?”  Marco asked blearily, covering his mouth as he yawned out Jean’s name.

  “You absolute asshole,” Jean started with a snarl, dropping down onto his hands and knees so he could get into Marco’s space as much as physically possible.  “You’ve avoided me all fucking  _ week, _ and then you have the fucking  _ nerve _ to ask what I’m doing here?  You didn’t even fucking  _ tell _ me that your curse isn’t permanent, I had to hear from  _ fucking Historia _ that you’d be a monster forever by noontime tomorrow!  What the absolute  _ fuck?” _  Their noses were almost touching when Jean stopped to catch his breath again, chest heaving as he tried to suck in the air he’d neglected to breathe while yelling at Marco.

  Marco, for his part, looked halfway torn between terrified and sad.  The fear made sense to Jean; he might not be as intimidating as Maman or Hitch on their worst days, but a Kirschstein’s wrath is terrifying.  The sadness, however, didn’t really make sense.  If anything,  _ Jean _ should be the one who was sad, with how little Marco felt he needed to tell his supposed best friend.  As the silence stretched on, and Marco’s eyes fell to the ground, Jean couldn’t help an impatient huff as he sat back on his heels.  If Marco wasn’t going to talk, then Jean would.

  “Okay, listen,” Jean growled, rubbing slightly sweaty hands against his thighs,  “You don’t seem like you want to talk, so open them ears.”  He paused, and Marco squirmed under the intensity of his glare.  Before Jean could continue, Marco cut him off with an incomprehensible mumble that made Jean pause and squint trying to figure out what had been said.  Spurred on by Jean’s expectant look (or maybe deciding that  _ talking _ would probably be helpful now), Marco repeated himself.

  “I...I was worried that you wouldn’t like me as I was before the curse,” Marco whispered, eyes decidedly fixed on the ground.  He was silent for a moment, as he waited for something (probably for Jean to agree that he wouldn’t like Marco unless he looked as unnatural as possible), but when Jean just stared at him in confusion, Marco curled in upon himself as he dragged the discarded blanket and wrapped his entire body in the blanket, unsubtly covering his face first.  Jean let out a long sigh as he dragged a hand down his face, before gently tugging the blanket until Marco’s face was uncovered.

  “You’re dumb,” Jean said with a soft laugh, his thumb gently stroking Marco’s face as he blinked owlishly up at Jean.  “You’re the dumbest dumb to ever dumb, and that’s even compared to the idiots in Trost.”  Marco’s lips quirked slightly in a halfhearted smile at that, but remained silent, so Jean pressed on.

  “You’re dumb because I like you, not just how you look.  But it would be easier to break the news to Maman that I fell in love with a man if he looked human….You were human before being cursed, right?”  Jean asked half jokingly.  Couldn’t be too careful, right?  Marco did at least laugh at that, before scooting a little bit closer to Jean, knocking their knees together gently.

  “Yeah, I was pretty human before being cursed.  A little less human in the mornings though,” He joked, practically beaming when Jean let out a tiny huff of laughter.  Marco took it upon himself to tentatively reached out and cover Jean’s hand (the one that was resting on his thigh) with his own at that point.  Jean leaned forward, back into Marco’s space, eyes darting to Marco’s blood-red lips.  (He almost wanted to laugh as he wondered, once again, for a split second, about if Marco’s lips were actually covered in fresh blood.)

  “Historia said that your curse can be broken by a kiss from someone that cares deeply about you.  Is that true?”  Jean tried not to stare at Marco’s lips as he asked as nonchalantly as possible.  Marco surprised Jean a little bit by laughing as he nodded.

  “Historia would know better than I would, it was her mother that cursed us after all,” Marco breathed.  Before Jean could really process that, Marco had leaned forward and bumped their noses together and asked almost breathily “Want to give it a shot, then?”

  Marco didn’t need to ask twice, Jean immediately tipping his head so that their closed lips, rather than their noses, were pressed together.  Marco’s lips were hot against Jean’s, much hotter than he thought they would be, and he almost wanted to laugh when Marco let out a surprised sound.  His mouth probably felt really cold against Marco’s, but neither boy moved as they stared at each other, eyes crossing as they tried to focus on the other’s face from so close up.  It was...Awkward, to say the least, and Jean was pretty sure they weren’t doing the kissing thing right.  He’d never kissed someone before, but when adults in Trost shared kisses, it didn’t look like it was...Whatever this was.  Should he move?  Close his eyes?  Wasn’t tongue supposed to be a thing?  What if his breath smelled bad?  What if this didn’t break Marco’s curse?

  Tentatively, Marco moved his lips against Jean’s, letting his eyes close as he reached up to cup Jean’s face.  It wasn’t  _ bad _ or anything, but it was obvious that they both had no clue what they were doing, and Marco was determined to make their first kiss (possibly their only kiss?) feel good.  It should be easy to mimic the kisses he’d seen before, right?  Marco opened one eye slightly to see if Jean’s eyes were still open, but Jean’s eyes were squeezed shut, and Jean’s hands were fisted against the ground tensely.  Marco’s heart sank in his chest, and moved to pull back and end the kiss, only for Jean’s mouth to chase after his.  Another surprised noise left his throat as Jean cautiously opening his mouth, tongue darting out to press against Marco’s lips.  Marco gasped, and Jean apparently took that as encouragement to continue, tongue passing over Marco’s lips again with a bit more confidence.

  While Jean’s lips had felt cold against Marco’s own, Jean’s tongue felt warm against his lips, and Marco wanted more.  Wanted, but didn’t know if they should.  (Would kissing with tongue be too forward?  Wasn’t a first kiss supposed to be sweet and chaste?  Did having tongue involved make it unchaste?)  While Marco hesitated, Jean decided that this was his cue to take the lead, his hands brushing coldly against Marco’s warm arms until they were laced loosely around Marco’s shoulders.  Another quick flick of Jean’s tongue, and Marco’s lips parted as well.  Jean let out a quiet moan as Marco’s hands fell to wrap around his waist.  The sound Jean made surprised both boys, enough to break the kiss.  Marco let his eyes open, taking in the sight of Jean’s flushed face as they both took a second to breathe.  Jean’s eyes remained closed, and Marco couldn’t help peppering the other boy’s cheek, nose, and even his eyelids with delicate kisses that made Jean snort slightly.

  “I...Kisses get better with practice, right?  Do you think...That worked?  Do you feel any different?”  Jean asked, his eyes still closed as he moved to lean his head against Marco’s shoulder.  Marco hummed and brushed a hand through his hair gently before he spoke.

  “Even if it didn’t work,” Marco breathed, pausing to brush more featherlight kisses across Jean’s cheek.  “I’m glad that it happened, and I-oh!”

  Marco’s hands and mouth left Jean’s body as he interrupted his own words, sounding somewhere between surprised and delighted.  Jean’s eyes snapped open in worry, before openly gawking.  Marco was staring at his hands, which were no longer bone white, but now a tawny gold, and splattered with freckles.  In fact, all of Marco’s visible skin was now that golden color, with more freckles on his face, arms, and chest.  Entire constellations on his skin, like a mirror of the sky above.  Even in the moonlight, it was easy to tell that Marco’s eyes were no longer obsidian black, though his hair seemed to be the same color as it was before their kiss.  The red of his lips had faded to a more natural color, and seemed to have spread to his cheeks as well (was Marco blushing?  Jean wanted to ask, but he felt frozen as he looked Marco up and down).  They were both silent for what felt like a long time (the sky turning darker for a little bit, but now it felt as though there was more light than when Jean had woken Marco earlier), until Jean finally broke the silence.

  “I…I think it worked?”  Jean said faintly, reaching out to brush his hands against Marco’s, almost disbelievingly.  Marco let out a laugh as he laced his hands with Jean’s, delighting in how Jean’s skin was actually a lighter color than his own.

  “It’s gonna take awhile to get used to you like this,” Jean added with a laugh as he was pulled onto Marco’s lap and wrapped into a tight hug.  Jean couldn’t stop himself from staring at Marco’s skin, smoothing his hands over the freckles and drawing patterns by connecting them.

  “It’s gonna take awhile to get used to being like this again,” Marco mumbled into Jean’s neck, shivering slightly as Jean stroked his bare back.  It took Marco a few minutes for him to really notice that the sky was starting to lighten, but when he did, he let out a disappointed sigh.  Jean would have to be heading home soon, would have to be going back to Woerman’s workshop...And Marco had nowhere to really go anymore.  Going back to his parents could cause problems for them, if Historia’s mother found out that his curse had been broken.  

  “Hey,” Marco said softly, jostling Jean a little bit.  “You should head home, before your mother notices you’re gone.”  Jean let out a disagreeing noise, not wanting to get up and leave, just in case this had all been a very realistic prank or something.  He let Marco’s hands unclasp his from behind Marco’s back, thinking very hard about how he could get out of going.

  “Come home with me,” Jean said in a rush as Marco held his hips and scooted back.  Marco stared at him blankly for a minute, as if Jean had spoken a different language, and had no clue how to even begin to translate what he’d said.  

  Nodding decisively, Jean stood up and tugged at Marco’s hands, encouraging him to stand as well, before heading off to the tree line in the direction of the path into Trost.  Jean knew that his Maman was probably already awake, and would be fretting about where he had gone off to.  Hell, Maman had probably finished all the things she needed to do for the day, and had already created a mob of people to find him.  If Jean could return home without too much of a fuss, with Marco at his side…

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to go home with you?”  Marco asked anxiously, looking back at his lean-to longingly.  

  “Not too sure, but we’ll find out.”  The dry look that Marco gave Jean in response to his honest answer was worth whatever was going to happen when they got to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heck  
> i hope y'all enjoyed reading this, and I hope that Kai has a very good birthday!


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